Ground Squirrels, small caliber rifles, large caliber pistols, and beer

PART 1:

It was the spring of 1983. Montana was warm and dry.

If you have never been to that part of the country it would be difficult for you to understand it, especially if your experience is in the northeastern United States. They call it "Big Sky" Country. That is no exaggeration. East of the Rockies it is all rolling or flat plains, with some buttes, mesas, valleys and small canyons. You can see for miles and miles.

I was in Great Falls, a big city by Montana standards and home to the 341st Air Base Wing at Malmstrom Air Force Base. Great Falls and Malmstrom were basically "Minuteman Missile Central" for the U. S. Air Force. North, east, and west of Great Falls sat 300 Minuteman III nuclear monsters. Each of these missiles sat in silos armed with three warheads ready to cause "the end of the world as we knew it." I should say "as we know it" because these deadly things are still there and still ready to go.

I shared a house downtown with another character, a Technical Sergeant (E-6) from Arizona. He was a bit of a gun nut as was I at the time. Gary was his name and he was a federally licensed class III arms dealer. That meant he could buy, sell and shoot just about any firearms or explosive that existed.

Gary had a little game he liked to play when watching Clint Eastwood movies. He would wear a flat, broad brimmed western hat, his serape, and smoke a thin cigar while wearing a single tied-down western holster with a .45 caliber revolver. The pistol would be loaded with what were called "hollywood" blanks. These blanks had a full powder load but were packed only with paper which would basically dissipate in the air on discharge. They were only dangerous at very close range, but you could still feel the concussive effect from the barrel ten feet away. He would, when compelled, help Clint shoot the bad guys. There were days when I was sure that Gary's elevator didn't make it to the top floor.

One day the Mormons, or maybe it was Jehovah's Witness came knocking at the door. Our house was on a corner lot where two main streets intersected. If my memory is correct it was 2nd Street North and 7th Avenue West. We did not have a lot of visitors. We were usually working, shooting, hunting, fishing or drinking. Guns and liquor went in and out on a regular basis, but we never mixed the two.

We were often seen loading and unloading his machine guns which we would fire down at Black Eagle Falls just outside of the city limits. Once a month or so we would mount his .30 caliber Browning air-cooled crew served weapon on his jeep (CJ-5) mount. Machine guns, after all like any machine need to be used. They do however, tend to make neighbors standoffish.

The Mormons knocked on the door while Gary and I were watching "For A Few Dollars More" and consuming copious amounts of cold beer. In this case I guess Gary was mixing firearms and alcohol.

I looked up from the couch and saw the dark pants, white shirts, and black ties. Gary got up to answer the door in all of his Clint Eastwood regalia. As he walked across the floor I told him who it was and he laughed a very odd laugh unlike any I had heard from him before. I sat up quickly and watched with a view that showed the Mormons through the front window, and the foyer where Gary would open the door.

I will stop and note here that Gary was a very good, nationally ranked, western quick draw competitor. He was also a multi-service pistol champion. As crazy and immature as he was, the man was exemplary with a pistol in his hand.

As he reached for the door handle, things from my seat began to move in slow motion. I saw the

Mormons look up and smile as they heard the door open. One reached out with his right hand while the other stepped back a bit and held up the good book. Gary opened the door and stood there, small cigar smoldering in his lips, a snarl on his face as reached for the .45. He  brought it up in a quick, smooth motion and pointed directly at the lead missionary.

The two Mormons froze, smiles in place and stared a look of stunned confusion. They did not comprehend what they saw. The delay was similar to what you see Wile E. Coyote do in a Warner Brothers cartoon. 

The pistol came up and roared once, sending smoke and bits of paper into the air. Two more roars followed in quick loud succession.

The poor missionary still not quite understanding what was happening, dropped their books and turned to flee the madman who appeared trying to kill them. Bumping into each other as they turned to go down the steps of the porch, one fell flat on is face while the other banged of the bannister, stumbled and caught himself on the stairs.

Gary continued to fire his blank ammo and was now bellowing unintelligible and probably profane noises.

The prone missionary was being trampled by the one who had bounced off the bannister. The second one stomped on his partners back and streaked down the side walk to the street. The other sort of crawled and scrawled down the sidewalk while attempting to pick himself up with his buddies footprint on the back of his shirt and blood on his face and hands.

Gary by now was on the porch, with an empty, smoking pistol in his hand, laughing in a way that by itself would scare any rational human being and most of the animals of the wild.

The last I saw of the two of them were their assholes and elbows as they fled desperately across the street and disappeared into the distance.

As Gary came back in, still laughing I brought him back to reality by saying we would certainly be getting a visit from the Great Falls Police and probably the Sheriff's Department.

No one came, no police, no sheriffs. No one cared, except of course for the two poor bastards who were victimized.

To this day the two of them surely tell the story of the "Madman of 2nd Avenue North." and how God saved them from certain death and martyrdom so they could continue to spread the word.

I wonder if the one guys recounts for his listeners how he ran up his pals back on on his way down the stairs.

TO BE CONTINUED

Every year I am fortunate enough to be able to host some fundraisers for the Salem YMCA. This started six years ago when I was still tending bar and taking care of business at the Lobster Shanty. In 2006 we raised $2,000.

Every year since then, even through a change an ownership at the Shanty and a change in my employment status there ( I must again be a prick and state it was not my choice to leave) the BaldBil's YMCA Day At The Shanty has taken place. It has become a small and anticipated annual tradition.

On Friday this week, June 24, I will close out the event by turning the cash and checks over to the Salem Y. It will be slightly over $3,500. When you consider the wet, cool weather that we had on the 12th of June that is very impressive. A little bit of sunshine and I believe we would have hit the "mythical" $5,000 mark. Maybe next year.

The entertainment was again provided by one of my favorite local groups, JT and the Hounds. These guys are basically a Salem/North Shore " super group https://www.facebook.com/pages/JT-and-the-HOUNDS/24714240941. My long time friend, Ronnie Deschenes leads these guys and they were just superb as is the norm. If you haven't seen them I would suggest that you do.

The generosity of the Shanty owners, Diane and Lee Wolf cannot be over stated here. They not only allow me to basically take over their business for the day, they also donate 5% of the full days receipt's to the cause. The bar tending staff, Sara, Ed, Betty (Dave), Sarah (Flooze), and Chrissy also donate ALL of their bar tips for the entire day. The wait staff, as usual, also rocked the house not only serving the customers but hustling to sell raffle tickets.

Raffle prizes were provided by a varied group of Salem businesses. The Morning Glory Bed & Breakfast (Bob and Marcel are dedicated and valued members of the BaldBil Fundraising Brigade), Victoria Station, The Adriatic, Cafe Graziani, The Salem Theater Company, Market Place Quilts, Engine House Pizza, Howling Wolf, Pampelmouse, The Trolley Depot, and Paul O'Donnell (Red Sox tickets).

The giant lobster was again provided by an anonymous donor and was won by Chuck, a charter member of the infamous and notorious "Chardonnay gang". They all gathered a few days later to dine on a huge lobster pie.

The six years of this event have been fairly successful. We have now raised just about $20,000 total for the kid's of Salem. I am proud of the fact that people in this town, and the Shanty crowd, support this cause every year.

Next up is the 5th BaldBil's Scotch & Cigar night. stay tuned.

Thoughts on Osama bin Laden and Seal Team Six

I felt no joy on hearing of this creatures death. There have always been and there will always be members of the human race who feel the pull of evil. Over the last hundred years we have seen our share of these characters. They all eventually come to their end.

When I first heard the news skepticism was my initial reaction. I had figured he was dead long ago despite the periodic releases of his video/audio tapes.

It did not take long to realize this was real.

What did I feel if not joy? It was not satisfaction. It was not relief. At first there there was no feeling at all, just an immediate desire for information. I wanted to to know who, when, where and how.

When the who was revealed, American warriors of Seal Team Six I felt pride. Pride as an American, pride as a veteran, and pride as a man who had a few small tastes of the covert world of the secret warriors. These men are a rare and special breed. You do not know who they are even when they are standing next to you unless you are supposed to know who they are. Do not be fooled by those you meet who boast and brag of heroic deeds. They are posers and nitwits.

There are a few like Eric Haney, who write books and make TV shows, but that is rare and in my mind shameful.

The when of the operation was no surprise. A moonless night with little overcast. Dark enough to create cover and assist confusion. No ground light bouncing off of clouds and increasing visibility. These conditions are perfect for maximizing night vision apparatus advantage.

Where. Well a bit of surprise there, but after a little thought it should not have been a surprise. Hiding in plain sight is an old and dependable strategy. The Pakistani government has made a lot of money off us by "aiding" in the decade long search. We admit to giving them a billion dollars a year. Accounting for all of the additional and publicly non-existent funds that are out there I would bet it was more like five or six billion a year. Hopefully that gravy train just ran right off the tracks.

The how is the best part. For far too long we have attempted to do our dirty work without getting down onto the dirt. Smart bombs and guided missiles are wonderful tools to have in your belt. They serve a purpose and can be very useful in the right circumstances. There are times however, when you need to put the tools down and use your hands directly. This was one of those times.

The warriors of Seal Team Six, just like the men of Delta Force who took out Pablo Escobar some years ago have already passed into legend and there they shall remain. That is where they belong and where they wish to remain. They will continue to shoot millions of rounds of small arms ammo every year as they practice and hone their deadly skills.

They will not be the drunken dunderhead standing at the bar regaling you with his tales of selection, martial arts exploits, or encounters with sexy and exotic female operators.

Thank you to the secret warriors and thank you to a President who had the sense to use them.

When You Least Expect It Something Happens

A few Fridays nights ago I wandered into the Gulu-Gulu for a beer before heading home. It was after eight pm and the place was packed to the gills. There were two seats at the bar close to the kitchen so I grabbed one and ordered an IPA.

The place was buzzing, my beer was cold and the band was setting up. I opened my MacBook to check on a few things and to tweak a short story I've been writing.

A young lady approached from the left and asked if she could take up space in what may have been the only available seat in the house. I gestured for her to make herself comfortable and went back to work.

She put her Apple on the bar and said to me, "I'm glad I'm not the only geek in the place tonight." Despite my taking minor offense at being called a geek, after all I am the Great Bald One I chose to give the young lady the benefit of the doubt and not treat her to a verbal evisceration.

After a few minutes I noticed that she was looking at the Salem Patch on her screen. I mentioned to her that I had recently discovered this new online newspaper and was impressed with what I had seen. Turns out that Aubry (yes we had done introductions) is the editor.

Conversation ensued. I mentioned I did some writing. She asked what I was working on. I told her.

Next thing I know Aubry is online looking at this blog and checking out some old columns I had written for the Salem Gazette.

"I want you to write for me" she said. "

Aubry followed that with, "I will pay you to write for me."

It took a moment for me to fully digest what she had said.

Needless to say I now write for the Salem Patch through a contract with AOL. The Patch system is their baby. There are those in the newspaper industry who think the Patch is the devil that will kill the print medium. That may or may not be the case.

This Saturday the third installment of my weekly column, "A Voice In Salem" will run. I am also accepting assignments as they are offered and Patch has already run two of those. Beginning this week is a five-part series detailing how different organizations in Salem are assisting families in need over the Christmas season.

Check it out when you can and be sure to let me know what you think by either commenting on the article itself or emailing me.

http://salem.patch.com/

A Busy Turkey day, Done and Done!

Thanksgiving is always my favorite holiday. The Fourth of July is nice and I like Memorial Day but Thanksgiving is the one that gets my attention every year. It would be impossible for me to explain why I like it so much. I just do. Usually I stay busy throughout the day and this year was no different.

WILD TURKEY RUN:

Dragging my self from bed at 6:30AM for what is becoming a true Salem tradition was not a problem at all. In years past I did so to supervise the members of my early morning boot camp as they performed their pre-mashed potato penance by running this 5 mile race.

This year it was me, the BaldOne who would be the penitent. After a breakfast at home I walked down North Street to the YMCA. There I dropped my bag prior to ambling down to the Boys & Girls Club to pick up my race package. Then it was back to the Y to get changed and a quick walk to the starting line at Washington Square North and Winter Street.

The air was cool, but comfortable. At least that was my opinion. Most everyone else thought it was plain cold. The field of runners was large and the mood was actually festive. I said hello to Brandi and Steve Dion, the owners of B & S Fitness. Steve had their son in a carriage and Brandi, well she is due to deliver another child in 3 days. She was ready to run and was quite relaxed. A few of us discussed at which mile marker she would be near when her water broke.

The run itself was pleasant despite my knees protesting every step. I am unable to stride fully without them clicking, therefore I do not stride. My good friend Steve Pinto described my style as a trudge. I guess I'll have to give him that because for the most part that is what I did, albeit a 10 minute mile trudge.

In the last 1/2 mile I stretched my stride out a bit and may have found a middle ground that will allow me to run a bit more and trudge a bit less. We shall see.

The official timer had me at 56:11 but my clock said 53:09. I trust my clock more.

The Frosty Four New Years Day race is next on the agenda despite my knees protests.

SALEM-BEVERLY FOOTBALL:

My Nephew, James and his father accompanied me to Hurd Stadium where we watched the Boys from the right side of the bridge beat the boys from the wrong side of the bridge 12-7.

My preference is to stand in the end zone to watch this game. James did not seem to mind tis which was good for me. I truly do not like sitting in the stands. The end zone is a bit of the game and a bit of old home week all in one. For some reason the attendance was down this year. Why is anybody's guess. It wasn't that cold, the wind wasn't blowing and there was no rain.

We had a prime spot to see Skeffingtons' 22 yard TD run. This was after Salem failed on a 4th and 1 attempt which was nullified by a Beverly penalty.

The play was chippy throughout the game with more than a few hits and a few shoves thrown in after the fact. The zebra crew was content to let them have at it and the game seemed under control from start to finish.

ETCETERA, ETCETERA:

A good dinner with family and a few friends while watching the Patriots spank the Lions was the afternoon. We eat at 1PM every ear to accommodate the nurses in the family who work the night shift. Turkey and all the rest of course but the high was...(drum roll please),............brussel sprouts. My sister Donna, the gourmet in the group bought 40 fresh brussel sprouts at Hannaford's. These weren't ordinary sprouts seeing as she hand selected them. Her system involved sending the poor kid at the market out back twice to bring here more to inspect. She is hard core in her vegetable standards.

Dinner done, a Patriot's victory in the bag I participated in some conversation until things began to turn political. At that point I retreated to the kitchen, read some newspapers and took a short nap.

AT 6pm it was time to head downtown, but that folks is another story.

Personal Trainers.....Some are good others are not.

Over the last few weeks while availing myself of a few different fitness facilities I have made it a point of observing and even listening to the interaction between trainers and their clients. I have done this in the past also and am always fascinated by what I see and hear.

Before I get into my conclusions let me say this to you. Before choosing or even shopping for a trainer, know what you want and why you want it. What you want and why is not for the trainer to decide. You alone need to consider how your wants either meet or conflict with your actual needs. A trainer is there to help you meet those needs as realistically and safely as possible. He or she is not there to dictate your needs.

One thing I always look at when observing a trainer in action is how hard is their client working. Are they applying themselves with diligence and purpose or are they moving listlessly from exercise to exercise with no real motivation. If the latter is the case then the trainer is not earning their money. The only conversation occurring should be for the purpose of evaluation.

"How are you feeling?"

"Can you do another repetition?"

"Inhale strong and exhale stronger!"

If the conversation is of casual subjects and not exercise related the client is and the trainer are not serious in their endeavors. This means the the client is fooling himself and the trainer taking money for being a conversationalist instead of being a trainer.

At least half of the "trainers" I observed were of this type. Their clients were barely breaking a sweat in their cardiovascular routines and not being challenged in their resistance exercises. Conversation seemed to be the order of the day with the exercise, usually a dry and repetitive series of machines or weights a seeming a sideline.

These are the trainers to avoid.

Look for the trainer who keeps their client moving quickly from exercise to exercise.

Look for the trainer who leads his client in different and challenging regimens.

Look for the trainer whose clients sweat and look like they were challenged physically after every workout.

Look for the trainer who questions his clients effort and motivation in a positive and productive manner.

Look for the trainer whose clients come off the machines or put down the steel to do old school, kick-ass floor exercises.

Look for trainer whose clients show progression in weight, repetitions and attitude.

When you are finished in the gym you should be tired but refreshed at the same time. Your heart rate should have been up, sweat should be flowing and you should feel like you accomplished something. If your aren't then you aren't working hard enough.

If I see you at the gym I always ask;

"Are you working hard?"

I ask this not as conversation but to remind you that you are there for a reason.

"Work Hard or Go Home!"